


The Lord Protector's Daughter

by allthespiceyoullwant



Series: The Lord Protector's Daughter [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:50:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4317603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthespiceyoullwant/pseuds/allthespiceyoullwant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?"</p><p>This prompt takes place right after the events portrayed in the Alayne chapter from The Winds of Winter. Read it here: http://www.georgerrmartin.com/excerpt-from-the-winds-of-winter/</p><p>Requested by astrangegirlsmind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lord Protector's Daughter

The night was hers. All night Alayne had danced with the hopeful young knights that had come for the tourney. First Ben Coldwater. Then Andrew Tollett. Ser Byron, red-nosed Ser Morgarth, and Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse. Ser Albar Royce, all three Sunderlands, Uther Shett, Ser Targon the Halfwild, Ser Roland Waynwood, and his uncle Wallace... They had all asked her to dance with them, flocked around her, vied for her favor.

Oh, Alayne had danced with all of them, japed with them, even coquetted with them. How much she had loved being the center of attention! For the first time in a long time, she had truly enjoyed herself. Tonight had been so different from all the stiff, tense and uncomfortable feasts she had had to endure in King's Landing...

And then she had danced with Harry the Heir himself. Her husband-to-be. Petyr's words had echoed in her head with every step she had taken... _Charm him. Entrance him. Bewitch him._ And Alayne knew that she had done well. When she had teased Harry about his daughter, she had seen a sparkle in his eyes, as if she had ignited something in him. Apparently, finally, this time the Maiden had answered her prayer. _Please, he doesn’t need to love me, just make him like me, just a little, that would be enough for now..._ Alayne was sure her prayer had been heard. She knew her father would be proud of her.

Alayne had to tell Petyr about it. She was too excited about her success tonight, too ecstatic from all the attention, she had had too much wine to go to sleep now. So she happily skipped down the dark, deserted corridors of the castle, towards Petyr's chambers.

She knocked on his door. He didn't answer, but Alayne would not let that stand in the way. So she simply entered.

His chamber was empty. But the flickering candle on his desk was evidence that he had been here not long ago. Alayne wondered where he might have gone and when he would return. She had never been in his chambers alone before, only with him. The realization strangely made her miss him. _He will return soon,_ she reminded herself, but it still felt curiously empty in the room. Suddenly Alayne felt very alone.

Should she leave or wait for him? Where could she sit? At his desk? Alayne knew Petyr was very private about his correspondence. She did not want him to think she was spying on him. _So not the desk... Maybe the bed._ The thought made her giggle. She couldn't sit on the Lord Protector's bed... could she?

The thoughts flooded into her head. _Well... he has kissed me once already. I doubt he would mind._ But he had not attempted another indecency since then... _That's because he respected your feelings, not because he did not want to,_ whispered a voice in her head.

Alayne felt so overwhelmed suddenly. The question she had avoided, pushed away, buried under her worries about her future and about Sweetrobin's well-being, came roaring back into her mind, loud and fierce and impossible to ignore.

_What are my feeling towards Petyr?_

He had become more than a friend in these past weeks. He had become her father. But Alayne had to admit that he was even more than this. He was a man... A man who cared for her. A man who had her best interests at heart... A man she trusted.

A man she wanted to kiss... And more than that.

Her dress fell to the floor before Alayne realized what she had done. Suddenly it lay there, next to her, a crumpled pile of the most beautiful fabric. Alayne looked at it for a moment, trying to fully grasp the situation. She was naked except for her smallclothes. Her body began to tremble, but whether from the cold or from excitement, she could not tell.

 _Your smallclothes would look good next to your dress on the floor, you know_ , teased the voice. _It's all or nothing now... And you know Petyr would be delighted about you initiative._

So Alayne took a deep breath and then, with trembling fingers, removed her smallclothes. They made a soft _thump_ when they landed on the ground.

Alayne shivered. _What have I done?_

She looked at the dress and smallclothes on the floor, then at her arms and legs, now covered in gooseflesh. It was not from the cold, Alayne knew.

She had half a mind to grab her clothes, put them back on, and flee from Petyr's chambers. But when she hesitantly took a step towards the pile of fabric on the floor, she realized that there was something else she wanted even more, and that was to climb into Petyr's bed. She took a deep breath and dared herself to walk towards his bed. As soon as she lifted the covers, she was embraced by his scent, so earthy and musky, and with a hint of mint... It was enough to reassure her how much she wanted him.

So, with a sly smile, Alayne slithered under Petyr's covers.

Her heart was fluttering in her chest. Petyr's scent in the sheets was so strong, so all-consuming, that she felt herself slowly lose her senses. Any moment, the door of his chambers would open, and Petyr would see her... Alayne did not know whether to be excited or afraid of that moment. What if he simply laughed at her and sent her away again? And what if he smiled and joined her? That thought was almost as frightening.

Her mind raced tirelessly for what seemed like a small eternity... until the door opened.

Petyr entered the chamber. He was carrying a wine carafe and didn't even see her at first. Then his gaze caught the crumpled pile of fabric on the floor. His eyes narrowed as he was trying to make sense of it... He moved his gaze to the bed and saw Alayne, lying under the covers and shuddering with excitement, fear and arousal.

Petyr let out a gasp. Alayne had never seen him lose control over a situation like that, but he caught himself after half a heartbeat. Now his expression was as composed as ever, but a smirk played around his lips. “Good evening, sweetling.”

“Good evening, father”, whispered Alayne. She was still covered with his blanket, only baring her left arm and shoulder. But just knowing that the sheet was all that shielded her body from his gaze... that was more exciting than anything she had ever experienced. Her cheeks burned madly.

Petyr's eyes twinkled. “I must say, I admire your dedication to our deceit, but under these circumstances I would hate to be your father.” He hesitated for a while and threw a look at the door, as if to make certain it was really locked. Then he added: “... Sansa.”His voice was coarse.

 _Sansa._ No one had called her by that name in such a long time. It sent a shiver down her spine. It almost made her feel like a different person...

Petyr's gaze moved back to Sansa, and moved over the silhouette her body drew under the covers. Sansa felt as if he was seeing right through the sheets, as if everything she was lay before him, her body, her mind, her soul.

When Petyr's smile miraculously reached these dark and mysterious grey-green eyes of his, Sansa knew that this was only the beginning.

“Is there a reason you are naked in my bed?”, asked Petyr, and his voice was almost giddy with amusement.

“I wanted to tell you about tonight, fath-... Petyr”, Sansa corrected herself. “I thought you would like to know that I danced with Harry. I japed with him and made a snide remark about his bastards, but he didn't seem to mind... He seemed rather entranced with me.” She laughed softly. “But I didn't give him my favor. I told him it's promised to another.” Her gaze met his.

Petyr smiled. “I knew you could bewitch him, sweetling. I have always believed in your power of seduction.”

Hearing him say these words made Sansa blush. _Seduction._.. That sounded so sultry, so sinful, so unlike anything she had ever done before...

Petyr continued with a sly grin. “As I can convince myself at this very moment, my beliefs were right.” He winked at her, and Sansa felt a wave of heat course through her veins from just this one look. He was still standing across the room, with some distance between them, but they way his eyes lingered on her, observing, _seeing_ her, made her feel as if he was right here, under the covers, with her.

“That's a wonderful story, sweetling”, continued Petyr. “But it still does not answer my question. You could have told me this without getting into my bed.” He paused for effect for a moment and twirled his pointy beard with a grin. “Not that I mind.”

Sansa felt herself blush again. “I don't know”, she admitted, her gaze lowered. “I just... I think... I wanted to.”

Petyr's expression didn't change. His gaze still roamed over the silhouette of her body, drinking in every last detail. Then his eyes found hers, and he held her gaze. He slowly grabbed the hem of his tunic and pulled it over his head in a fluent motion.

Sansa tried to force herself to keep looking into his eyes, but she couldn't stop herself from stealing a glance at his chest. She had heard so many stories about Littlefinger and her uncle Brandon and the duel... She had to see the scar.

It ran across his entire chest, from navel to collarbone, distinctly visible through his divine chest hair. Sansa let out a pained gasp.

Petyr smiled ruefully. “Don't think about the past now, sweetling. Think about the present...” He twirled his beard again. “Do you still want this?”

Sansa forced her gaze away and found his eyes again. She nodded slowly. “Yes, I do.”

Petyr smirked and then, finally, walked towards her. With every inch he moved closer, Sansa felt her heart beat faster and faster, as if Petyr was a source of heat that was slowly swallowing her... When he stood before the bed, close enough for Sansa to stretch out her hand and touch him, he took another look at the crumpled pile of her clothes on the floor, now immediately next to his feet, and his smirk broke into a grin. “When I had this dress made for you, I would not have expected to find it on my floor one day. It looks quite good there, don't you think?”

Sansa had to giggle. “Not as good as your tunic all the way over there.”

Petyr chuckled and shook his head. “My lady japes.” He leaned down and took a hold of one corner of the blanket. Then he hesitated for a moment.

Sansa held her breath. _Come on, Petyr. Do it._

Petyr lifted the sheet, and a wisp of cold wind brushed over Sansa. The cold came so unexpected that she had to gasp, and Petyr quickly slid under the sheet and covered them both again. There was still some distance between them, but Sansa could feel the heat radiating from his body. She clenched. Suddenly touching him seemed so impossible. She couldn't do this, could she? He was Littlefinger, the Lord Protector, a man more than twice her age, her _father..._

But when Petyr slowly reached over and gently pulled her into his arms, all these doubts melted away and were replaced by a different feeling entirely...

 _Longing_.

Gods, Sansa was yearning for his touch now, losing herself bit by bit with every soft stroke of his fingertips over her skin. For what seemed like a lifetime, his hands explored her body, and Sansa felt an ocean of sensations she had never felt before. Everything around her was slowly beginning to fade away, everything but Petyr and his presence and the fire he had ignited in her. Sansa had never felt more like a woman.

Petyr was perfectly gentle, never trailing below her navel, stroking her breasts for only the most fleeting moments... It drove Sansa mad.

After what seemed like hours Petyr still hadn't done more than caress her, in such a sultry yet chaste way. So Sansa decided to take action. She turned her face to him, close enough that she could feel his warm, spurting breath on her lips. His eyes were dark with desire. She moved even closer now, as close as she dared without touching his lips with hers, and whispered: “Kiss me...”

And he obliged, closing the distance between them, softly putting his mouth on hers. He tasted of wine and mint. Sansa had never tasted anything sweeter.

After a while, Petyr slowly parted his lips slightly and touched her upper lip with his tongue for a heartbeat. It sent a jolt of ecstasy through her entire body, but Sansa barely had time to gasp before his tongue flicked forward again. This time she parted her lips and welcomed it.

The kiss was still tender at first, but Petyr soon picked up the pace, letting his tongue dart in and out of her mouth skilfully, all the while letting his hands run over her body, harder and more urgent now. It only fueled the fire inside her until she was burning for this man, her Lord Protector, her _father..._ Sansa greedily felt for him under the covers now, letting her hands trail over his arms towards his shoulders, his neck, burying her fingers in his dark hair. The fine silver threads in it shimmered in the light of the flickering candle. It reminded Sansa that he was so much older than her, but she didn't care. It also meant he was skilled and experienced, and he had always treated her with respect. That was good enough for her.

His breath sped up now, too. He greedily flung his arms around her, pulling her even closer now, until Sansa could feel his heart beating in his chest. The touch of his naked skin on hers was more than she had ever dreamed of, and she felt the heat radiating from both their bodies merge and take on a life of its own, until they were entirely lost in it...

Sansa needed more. She broke the kiss and hungrily looked at Petyr. He was still catching his breath, and his eyes were narrow and piercing and dark with lust. Sansa held his gaze. She was a woman, she wanted this, _needed_ it, and she would look at him until he knew. Slowly his lips broke into a smirk as he realized her demands. “My lady japes”, he teased her.

“No, your lady doesn't”, whispered Sansa. Gods, her voice sounded so coarse...

Petyr chuckled softly. “As my lady commands.” He leaned in and gave her another sweet, tender kiss, but now he let his hands trail further and further down her body, until Sansa finally, for the first time, felt the touch of his hands on her hips. It made her shiver with anticipation. And Petyr did not stop there. His fingers wandered further, almost painfully slowly... Sansa held her breath as she felt something build up inside her, something she had never felt before.

When Petyr's hand finally found its way between her legs and slightly parted them, she realized how warm and wet she was. Sansa giggled. She had only heard some kitchen maids talk about feelings like these before, in hushed tones and with flushed faces, back in Winterfell. It had sounded so scandalous and indecent, and Sansa had been shocked... But now she knew better. _So much better._

Petyr skilfully let his fingers explore her, and Sansa moaned softly. Gods, it was so contrarious, his strong hands and his gentle touch...

“What an incredible daughter you are”, Petyr whispered in her ear. “So innocent and pure by day, and so eager by night.”

Suddenly Sansa remembered. “My innocence... Won't Harry notice it if I was already a woman bedded?”

Petyr looked Sansa in the eyes, and she felt as if he was staring into her soul. Then his hand gently parted her, and he slid a finger inside her. Sansa was so surprised that she let out a gasp, but it was soon replaced by a deep moan. Oh, this was too good. What did Harry the Heir matter? All that mattered was Petyr and his hand and the wonderful things it made her feel... But Petyr responded nevertheless. “Harry will have two bastard children by the time you wed, sweetling”, he reminded her. “He is not in a position to demand purity. Besides, you are the Lord Protector's daughter... My daughter.” As he said it, he slid another finger inside her. Sansa gasped and dug her nails into the mattress to hold on to a last bit of control, however vanishing. Petyr seemed to notice it, but he didn't say anything. He only smirked. “Harry might be stupid, but even _he_ would know better than to condemn you.” He began moving his fingers now. Oh gods, Sansa had never felt anything like it before. His fingers left her and came back again and left her again, leaving her more dissolved with every time they entered her. Sansa tried to focus on Petyr, to say something witty or clever, but all wits had gone from her. She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a deep sigh. She didn't care. When Petyr's fingers entered her again, this time fast and hard, Sansa forgot everything. She closed her eyes and let her head roll back, meeting every stroke of his fingers with a loud moan, losing herself in the moment.

Petyr chuckled. “Oh, my sweet daughter...” He pulled his hand away again, and Sansa braced herself to feel his fingers again... But she did not. She arched her back, bringing her hips up, trying to reach his hand again, but felt nothing. She moaned in frustration and looked up.

Petyr was moving under the covers now, positioning himself anew until he was on top of her. He was holding himself on his arms, but Sansa could still feel his weight pushing her deeper into the mattress. It made her heart beat faster than ever.

Petyr smiled at her again. “On the other hand, maybe I _should_ stop now... Harry would be so _disappointed_...”, he teased her.

“No”, breathed Sansa, “please...”

“As my lady commands.” Sansa felt Petyr's hand between her legs again, toying with her for a moment, preparing her. Then she felt something else. Something that was soft and firm at the same time, and hard. She took a deep breath.

“I will go slowly, sweetling”, Petyr promised. “Just tell me if you want me to stop...”

That was the last thing Sansa wanted.

Petyr's eyes found hers and he held her gaze, and then, suddenly, he slid into her. The pain came so unexpected that Sansa whimpered. She felt tears pooling in her eyes.

Petyr immediately took her face in his hands and planted the softest kiss on her lips, but he didn't leave her. “Are you hurt, sweetling?”

 _Yes,_ she wanted to tell him, but that would not have been right. The pain was fading already, and even at first, when it had come so fast and unexpected, it had been nothing compared to how much she had wanted to finally feel him inside her. The thoughts raced through her head. _Petyr is inside me. The Lord Protector. My father_. _He is inside me..._ And then another thought entered her mind. _It's not so little, his finger._ She had to laugh softly. “No, I'm not hurt”, she whispered. “It was unexpected, but it's gone now.”

“It will only get better now, I promise”, said Petyr softly and kissed her again, more tenderly and gently than ever.

Then he slowly began to move.

It still hurt more than Sansa wanted to admit, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was this very moment. She was here, she was safe, in bed with a man she trusted and who treated her kindly. Finally. She looked into Petyr's eyes and drew strength from them. He smiled. “I am so proud of you, Sansa.”

She felt herself blush. “I know.”

Petyr gradually moved faster, all the while looking at her, noticing the slightest change of her expression, constantly searching for her approval. And Sansa held his gaze and smiled bravely and thought of everything Petyr meant to her to remind herself that the faint pain was nothing compared to finally being with him. At last she admitted to herself how long she had wanted this.

And the longer she thought about finally becoming a woman at Petyr's hands, the more she began to enjoy herself until a faint moan escaped her lips.

Petyr grinned. “Does it still hurt?”

“No”, answered Sansa, and it wasn't a lie.

“Good”, whispered Petyr into her ear and picked up the pace. Oh, gods, Sansa had thought she knew how this felt by now, but this was a different feeling entirely. Every time she felt Petyr move inside her ignited the fire in her more and more. She felt herself shudder uncontrollably, embracing every thrust of his willingly and happily, moaning faintly to his pace.

Petyr buried his hands in her hair and played with it for a while, combing it with his fingers, until he let his hands trail further down and gently cupped her left breast. Then he gave her nipple a light pinch. The faint hurt mingled with the sensation that was spreading from between her legs, and a wave of heat washed over her. Sansa felt as if this was the end of her. She yelped. _“Yes...”_

Petyr moved even faster now, and Sansa met each thrust of his with a loud moan until Petyr began to groan as well. As she felt his hot breath on her skin she began losing herself in him, gradually becoming one with this man. It felt so good...

Then Petyr firmly grabbed her hair and pulled her head back so she was looking into his eyes. Sansa had never been looked at like this before, with such pure intensity. It was almost too much. She swallowed hard and averted her eyes, but he only gently pulled her head back again to make her look at him. His gaze alone made Sansa's breath speed up, and together with the feral heat every thrust of his made course through her body, it was enough to bring her closer and closer to a feeling she hadn't even known existed. Petyr became her world, her everything.

When Petyr finally came undone with a soft groan, he buried his face in her neck and held her tight. Sansa felt him clench as he spilled his seed inside her.

And then it was over... She was a woman now. And as Petyr leaned in to kiss her softly, all Alayne could think was that she could not have hoped for a better father.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Terms of Endearment](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6353989) by [TheLordMockingbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLordMockingbird/pseuds/TheLordMockingbird)




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